Cordial Wonders
by thewordiscool
Summary: Cordial wrote a story because she was bored and she decided to make it come true. A glorious mismash of Avatar and Pirates - the best of both worlds. The title sucks, i know...if you've gotta better one, i would love to hear it!
1. Chapter 1

_Why hello there! You seem to've found my, erm, attempt at a story. Please, read on! And review - reviewing would be lovely. _

_This is a crossover between Airbender - Cordial is basically Katara and Sans is Zuko...they just can't bend - and Pirates. I hope it comes through! _

_I don't own Katara or Zuko or a pirate ship (you know you want one too) - they're properties of Michael Dante DiMartino, Bryan Konietzko, Nickelodeon, and Disney. But we can all dream, right?_

_Have fun! _

_-_

"There's really nothing you can do about it, Cordial. So stop sniveling and eat your orange," the tallish girl stated matter-of-factly as she took a juicy bite of her own orange.

"I don't like oranges," Cordial muttered into the skin of her breakfast.

"What was that?" the girl snapped, the juice dribbling down her chin counteracting the air of severity that she was attempting to bring to the conversation.

"What ever gave you the idea that I wished to _do_ anything about anything? I was merely pointing out that our lives seem to have taken a disturbingly boring turn in the last several years and that I wouldn't mind seeing a change or two. And how does that constitute a snivel?"

"Dear, dear Cordial - "

"…or if you'd rather spend the rest of your days in a grotty orphanage eating oranges and talking down to me, then we can all kick up our heels and call it done with."

The girl shut her mouth. After a moment or two of awkward silence, during which Cordial pretended to study the hills and valleys of her orange's skin, the breakfast gong began to thud redundantly and all the thin girls rose and formed their alphabetical lines. Cordial leaned in to assure that her comment wouldn't be too obvious.

"There's a notebook under my bed. You can read it if you get too bored."

-

Cordial thought, as she slunk through the servants' entrance in the back of the orphanage, that that was the most emotion her friend had shown her entire life. She allowed herself a snicker before realizing that she had no idea where she was going. The door suddenly squeaked behind her and she dove into a tin garbage can.

"You know we're on an island, right?" her friend hissed into the cold before tossing some worn woolen gloves into the cobbled alley.

Cordial stuck her nose above the rim of the can in time to shoot off "Hence the name ENGLAND," before the door squeaked shut.

Muttering to herself, she gathered the grey gloves and shoved them onto her hands. They were the sort, she decided, that were wonderfully useless. Yes, they were warm, but they had no fingers. And, honestly, how often do one's palms get cold?

-

"Is there a problem, Miss Snook?" the tall grey woman sneered from across the kitchen. Synthia gasped, dropping her hands from the wood of the door in case that would somehow disconnect her from the mysterious squeaking that had just echoed across the building.

"No ma'am," she said, curtsying.

"Why were you opening that door? Going to feed the tomcats yer orange peelings, eh? Stupid girl."

"Uh - "

"Quit flabbergasting about and get to yer room! I ain't got time to be looking after every last one of ye!"

"Yes ma'am." Synthia scurried off, skirting a wide radius around the raven woman.

"And there'll be no morning orange for ye tomorrow."

Synthia continued to scurry off, mostly because she hadn't heard the last part. When she reached her room (or, to be more exact, her cot), she flopped onto the sheer, fuzzing sheet and watched the dust particles settle around her head. About two hours into the morning, Synthia discovered that she was terribly bored.

"Fine," she muttered to no one in particular, rolling on her side and reaching beneath the empty cot next to her.

A tiny sprite of a girl appeared at the foot of her cot as soon as she had lifted the bulking notebook.

"Whatcha got there? Is it a story? Can I read it? Huh? Can I? Or maybe it's a pirate map? Huh? What about that? Huh? Huh?"

A few minutes later, Synthia was curled up in the cabinet under the kitchen sink, trying vainly to light a candle stub so that she could read.

There came a sudden thud on the cabinet door and Synthia blew out the stub that she had finally coaxed to catch fire. She froze in the dark for a bit, cursed, and felt around for another match. When she at last felt that it was safe, she lit the stub, opened the leather-bound notebook, and began at the beginning.

_The Adventures of Cordial Plunkett_

_By Cordial Plunkett _

_A Note to the Reader: I am no storyteller, so it is with my apologies that I relate these epic adventures. The awesome feats of which you are about to learn are completely true, though they have not yet happened. _

_Cordial stared at her orange with disgust, tossing it back and forth between her pale hands. The room buzzed with the whispers of thin girls, all of whom were dressed in various shades of grey. She placed her breakfast on the table, tried to roll it to the girl sitting across from her (who had already eaten her own orange and still looked famished), and shivered as it stuck in a puddle of something gooey. The lamps on the walls played eerie games with the lights. The door screeched and a gust of wind filled the room. The lamps went out. Girls screamed. Cordial suddenly felt very cold. _

"_Someone," a shrill voice cried, "Has not eaten their orange this morning. And for that, they will be punished."_

_Cordial reached to pull her orange out of the puddle of goop, but found her arms wrenched behind her. _

"_Come along missy," someone whispered in her ear, "It's time for a flogging." _

_Cordial allowed herself to be marched into a hallway before struggling. _

"_NO!" she screamed, kicking at whoever was holding her. She made contact and heard a low curse, followed directly by a sharp twang of pain in her right wrist. She slammed herself backwards and wrenched her arms free, fleeing down the nearest corridor. _

"_YOU SHALL EAT YOUR ORANGE!" her captor screeched, just as Cordial reached a door. She flung it open just as something moved behind her and dove into the crisp snow outside. _

"_I see you!" the woman grinned, stepping into the light. Cordial gasped at the terrifying sight: skin the color of death, hair like so many black snakes, and a nose shaped just like a raven's beak. _

_It was then that the sun came up. _

"_BAHHH!" the raven woman screeched, melting into a puddle. Cordial scrambled through the snow, shivering as the cold, vital air surged through her thin rags, and began to run…_


	2. Chapter 2

Cordial was rather proud of herself. Though she had absolutely no concept of how far she had walked, it didn't really matter given that any distance should be considered quite impressive when traversed uphill in the snow in England. She made better headway, however, after a kindly fish salesman gave her a ride on his cart through the streets of the quiet city.

"Not many youngin's out this early in the morn'," he chuckled. "Would you like to tell me what yer doin' out on the streets wee lass?"

"Not really," Cordial replied, trying to be as discreet as possible about holding her nose.

"Early mornin' through these streets is lonely indeed mum. I don't suggest it if it's not for an important task."

"It is."

"Now what sort of task could a wee lass like ye have?"

And on and on the conversation went until the squeaking of the tires and the bumping of the cart across the cobbles lulled Cordial to sleep, nestled alongside the remains of frozen fish.

-

"_YER GETTIN' ON THE SHIP LASS!" the brawny sea captain bellowed, poking Cordial in the back with his glimmering golden telescope. _

"_I WO-" Cordial protested as a wad of fabric (that smelled vilely of fish) was shoved into her mouth. She struggled to free herself from the captain, but found her wrists bound with a scratchy twine. She flopped herself onto the ground, hoping to use her own weight to free herself, but succeeded only in twisting her wrist. Gagging, she doubled over and felt an arm around her waist. She thudded onto the seaman's back helplessly and watched the dirt road pass beneath her as she was carried through the early morning streets of England. After her head had begun to buzz painfully, she was tossed across a gangplank and onto a mound of ropes. There she lay, concentrating mostly on remaining conscious, until she heard the snap of canvas and the slap of waves. She was then jerked gruffly upright, backed against a round wooden something (she couldn't see it but she suspected that it was the mast), and chained there just in case she might jump overboard and manage to propel herself - with her sheer leg power - to shore. When her head finally began to clear, she noticed that she was not the only one chained to the mast. To her right was a petite blonde girl, a little older than her, who seemed to be trying to sneeze around her gag. To her left was a young boy, much younger than herself, with brown curly hair and freckles. _

_They sailed for hours, so long that Cordial finally fell asleep. When she woke up, her feet had begun to sting from the cold and her hair was damp and tousled from the brackish air. It was night on the ocean, so dark that she could only faintly make out the hunched outline of their captor at the bow of the ship. She marveled for a bit at how he had managed to sail such a thing all by himself and then wondered at how far one could get manning a ship by ones self. Her bet was on "Not very far." _

-

"Well, I'll tell you girlie – and I'll be honest with ya – I don't really see us needing a cook any time soon." The slight young man plucked a blue crab from his net and tossed it into a bucket.

"How about someone to repair nets? To shell crabs? Something?" Cordial prodded hopefully.

"I can take ye back to town, lass, if needs be," the fish salesman offered, plucking a few frozen fish from a fisherman's boat and placing them in his cart.

"No thank you," Cordial huffed, slightly peeved that no one seemed to be taking her seriously.

A tall, burly man lumbered into view, stopping behind the crab boy and placing a hand on his shoulder. "What's all this about?"

"This girlie wants a job workin' on our boat," the worker explained, waving his hand in her general direction. "I told her we ain't got no place for the likes of her."

"What'd you do that for?" the man asked, his hazel eyes twinkling kindly. "We can always use an extra hand about the ship."

The young man dropped his crab in surprise. "But – you said - "

"Hush boy." The man removed his hand from the worker's shoulder and ran it through his thinning mousy brown hair. "Welcome aboard the _Fair Lady Scooner_, little lady. We'll take her out the day after next – right after the fish market closes. Your job will be to make sure our lines are baited and ready. Can you handle that?"

Cordial, so pleasantly surprised that people were actually cooperating, snapped to attention. "Aye aye, cap'in."

The older man chuckled. "Just call me 'Jim.'"

-

_ After an indefinite number of days as prisoner, Cordial had finally gone numb. The weather had gotten progressively worse. The air had become colder and more severe, causing the ship to writhe and pitch over the foaming caps of angrily dark waves. She began to think that her captor was simply insane, until two grappling hooks flew over the waters and gruffly jerked the tiny craft into a solid wall of wood. _

"_AHOY THERE!" the captain of the tiny ship cried. "I'VE GOT THE KIDDIES." _

_Two men, dressed in all black, sailed down the grappling lines and landed noiselessly on the deck. The taller one tossed a clinking bag to the captain and began to circle the mast. He stuck a finger under the young boy's chin and jerked it upward, appraising him. He came to Cordial and stopped, meeting her angry glare. Cordial gasped and then immediately began gagging again. The man staring down at her wasn't a man at all. It was a boy, a little older than her, with bright green eyes and chocolate brown hair. He wore his black pirate hat at a rakish angle and rested a hand on the gilded hilt of his sword. _

"_I'll take them all," he said, turning to the captain (who had begun to count his bounty). _

_To her relief, Cordial was untied and ungagged. She doubled over from the exhaustion of standing for such a long time and tried to get her aching jaw in functioning order. Before she felt ready to speak, however, she was scooped up by the taller pirate and tossed lightly over his shoulder. She wondered briefly how he was going to get back to his ship, but he was already hoisting her from his shoulder before she came to any logical conclusion. She looked to her left and saw, to her relief, that the two other captors were there as well. The young boy's face was completely drained of color and the girl was glancing at the crew nervously. _

"_Mates," boomed the pirate who had carried her aboard, "We have some new additions to our crew. So I want all of you to make our new members feel welcome." He paused for the crew to snicker appropriately. "Crew, take these two and assign 'em jobs." He placed a hand in the small of the boy's back and shoved him into the crowd. "Sorry miss," he crooned, bowing low and shoving the blonde girl towards a short pirate with a black bandanna. Cordial began to inch away from the scene, plotting her escape to nowhere in particular... _


	3. Chapter 3

Cordial shoved a worm onto a hook and wiped her hands on her gray knee socks.

"Do you think the fish are biting today, Jim?"

"Sure they are! With weather like this? Why, we'll have the day's catch and more 'fore noon."

Cordial settled back against the rough edge of the scooner and smiled up at the sun, which was trying very hard to blind all the fishermen with its brilliant rays.

-

Sans mumbled to himself, decided that that would just make it more unpleasant for everyone, and mumbled louder. His mop was saturated with salt, making it virtually impossible to effectively swab anything, and his bucket of suds had been reduced to a bucket of foaming water after the first ocean spray of the morning. He swiped the dingy mop across the ship's boards, causing a few drops to land on the shining boot nearby.

"Oops. Sorry Captain Thomas."

"That's alright boy," the captain returned, smacking Sans squarely in the left ear. "Now go get my breakfast."

"SHIP AHOY!" the call sounded from the rather aged man who had claimed the task of looking through the telescope every half hour.

Captain Thomas clunked over to the old man and grasped the telescope in a claw-like hand. "A fishing dinghy on the starboard side. An old man and a girl. What say you, men? Should we dump their tackle?" Grappling hooks flew from the side of the boat in response, shredding the side of the hapless dinghy into so many shards of dignity.

-

"WHAT'S HAPPENING, JIM?!" Cordial screamed over the sound of splintering wood.

"Pirates," Jim replied grimly. "No gooders who like to harass innocent fish boats. They ain't going to bother us; don't you worry."

Cordial opened her mouth to deliver a bitingly sarcastic retort, but found herself speechless as a tiny, hideous man slid down a grappling line. He was a little shorter than Cordial, with course black hair that stood out in tufts around his pirate hat (off of which the feather was falling). His eyebrows populated the vast majority of his forehead and rested above nondescript eyes. His lips were slivers of dry, cracked skin and his peg leg was beginning to rot.

"What do we have here? Not the usual load, eh?" The pirate grinned at Cordial.

"What do you want?" Jim asked, stepping between Cordial and the man as the boat pitched precariously.

"Oh do forgive me – where are my manners? Captain Thomas, at your service."

Cordial had once again opened her mouth to offer biting wit, but found herself tossed over the tiny man's shoulder like a bag of moldy potatoes. She pounded his back with her fists, but to no apparent avail. She landed on the damp wooden deck with a resounding thud and glared up at her captor, who had already gone off to yell at someone. A rather gruesome looking man loomed over her and offered a hand.

"Why hello there," he cooed. "I'm first mate Wendell. What's your name? It must be quite lovely if it is to match a face such as yours."

It was then that Cordial realized that pirates were not quite as well-fitted to her stereotype as she had hoped.

-

Sans found the new girl quite irritating.

For one, she wasn't required to do any real work. After the captain spied Wendell flirting with what's-her-face, she was thrown into the dungeon (which just meant that Sans had to go down there twice a day to shove some bread through the bars). They didn't even chain her to the wall, or administer any of the normal tortures to which pirates normally subject their captives (such as having Prendell the Aged play the violin for them while they were still chained). In fact, Sans wondered why they kept the girl at all.

-

_Cordial felt an arm slip around her middle. She whirled around and found her nose inches away from a rather impressive set of abs. _

"_Um," she asked before being whisked into a darkened room._

"_You can stay in here," her captor whispered before shutting and locking the door. _

"_I am terribly confused," Cordial said to no one in particular before passing out from fatigue and general stress._

_When she awoke, she found a tray perched on an orange crate (which had been propped up to serve as a night table) next to a surprisingly softly quilted bed. On the tray were placed a bowl of chicken soup, a glass of orange juice, a candle, and a vase of flowers. Cordial thought that the flowers were a bit much (though she never actually realized that they were in the middle of the ocean and therefore could not have obtained flowers), but ate the soup before all of it had time to sink in. _

_A knock resounded on her door and she stumbled across the boards to yank the door open. _

"_What?" she asked, holding a hand to her face to shield herself from the sudden presence of light. _

"_The Captain wishes to see you," a voice boomed from the doorway._

"_Oh. Good." Cordial allowed herself to be lead around deck to an impressive wooden door. The short, stout man grasping her arm plunked a dirty hand against the door and shoved the girl inside as it opened. _

_Cordial, again, found her nose inches away from a rather impressive set of abs._

"_Erm, hello?" the pirate who had carried her aboard asked._

_Cordial was silent with righteous anger. _

"_Not speaking to me, then? I don't blame you. But, I have good reason…"_

_Cordial had just begun to wonder why the captain of a dreaded pirate ship was explaining himself to her when some of the crew passed. The captain ushered her inside and quickly shut the door behind him. _

_This did not, Cordial thought, promise to end well. _

-

"Why," Sans whined over the general din of breakfast, "Are we keeping that girl anyway? It's not like we can ransom her off or anything – not even the captain knows where she's from. What? Is she like his personal slave girl or something?"

The old man gumming some bread next to him coughed a laugh.

Gregory rolled his eye. "Calm down Sans. The captain does what he wants." The bandannaed man leaned in a little closer and Sans wondered if he had ever gotten a splinter from his wooden eye. "He's not all there, the captain. And don't complain so much – no one's gonna hurt yer little girlfriend."

Sans choked on his bread crust, drawing a giggle from the old man. "That's not funny! She's a disgusting bit of filth!"

"…Have you _looked _at your self lately?"

-

_Cordial flung herself across the room and tried to squeeze behind a bookshelf._

"_What're you doing?" the boy cried, picking her up and placing her on top of an ornately carved chest. _

"_I will scream. I'll do it. I'll do it, you dirty cod fish."_

_The boy smirked a little. "James."_

"_I'll…what?" _

"_My name. It's James. What's yours?"_

"_Uh…"_

"_Oh, come now, miss. I'm not gonna hurt you. Do I look like the type?" James jumped from his kneel and spun around so that Cordial could see. A somewhat worn black blouse, unbuttoned halfway down and tucked into black pants, which were then tucked into black boots. Nothing especially out of the ordinary for a pirate._

"_Yes, you sort of do," Cordial answered quite honestly. _

_James' smirk disappeared and he knelt in front of her again. "Well, I'm not going to hurt you. Do you know whose ship you were on before?" _

"_No…of course not."_

"_That was Captain Sanders. He sells children into slavery. He - "_

"_So, you…rescued me?" Cordial thought James had a very nice smile, though she wondered how his teeth remained white. "My name's Cordial."_

"_Cordial? That's a lovely name."_

-

The sea was a little more choppy than usual and, as usual, the captain was drunk. Whenever dark clouds rolled remotely close to their ship, Sans found, the captain was drunk. The forecast must've been particularly nasty this time though, because Wendell was drunk as well.

Sans slouched down the dim hall with the girl's dinner – whatever it was (he couldn't really make it out) – and, upon passing the captain's room, heard rather loud thumping noises.

"NO! I'M THE CAPTAIN! I GET TO SAY WHERE WE GO!"

"BUT TORTAGO IS SWARMING WITH MILITARY MEN THIS TIME OF YEAR! IT WOULD BE SUICIDE TO EVEN SAIL PAST!"

"BUT THEY HAVE THE BEST RUM!"

Sans snorted, grasped the tiny metal ring in the floor, and pulled. He had gotten pretty good at dropping to the next level silently – he preferred to sneak up on the prisoner if possible – but the captain and first mate's yelling must've alerted the girl to his presence.

"Hello again."

"Mmph," Sans grunted, blowing hair out of his eyes, and shoving the tin plate through the slot between the bars. The ship shifted and the girl, apparently not grown into her sea legs, went tumbling to the other end of her cell.

"Ouch," she grumbled, rubbing where her head had collided with the cell wall. Sans glanced at her and noticed for the first time that her clothes had a generous sprinkling of holes in them.

"Why do your clothes have so many holes in them?" he blurted, before he could remind himself that a conversation would simply mean more time in the hell-hole.

The girl blinked at him – her eyes were stone blue – and rubbed her very pale elbow. "Orphanage."

"Oh. Right."

Sans felt the rising impulse to jet through the hole in the ceiling and onto the captain's floor. "Enjoy your slop," he mumbled, grasping the wooden edges of the hole and hoisting himself up with haste.

"Not all of us have the luxury of living on a pirate ship, you know!" she called after him – he heard it just as the trap door banged shut. Chuckling a little at the notion of a pirate ship being the luxurious bit of life, Sans didn't notice the loud clanging noises coming from the captain's room. He did, however, hear the bang of a gun, followed by the dull thump of a heavy something. He made record time back up to the deck.

-

"_But, why a pirate?" Cordial asked, bouncing up and down on the disturbingly fluffy edge of the mattress._

"_It's not like I really got much say in the matter – when you're sold, they don't ask you which port you'd like to be dropped off at."_

"…_you mean you were a slave?" Cordial hated how small her voice had gotten or, more importantly, the fact that she seemed to be in the exact same sort of situation. _

"_Uh-huh. And when I saw you tied to his mast like that I just…"_

"_But you're making the other two work!" Cordial hopped off the bed at this and marched away, suddenly annoyed that she had been talking to a pirate for the last two hours. _

"_No! I mean yes. But, not for long. I just - "_

"_You're just a pirate. You should be ashamed of - " Cordial attempted to fling open the door and make a dramatic exit, but felt her wrists lock in James' hand as she was spun around._

"_Would you _listen_ for a second? Sheesh!" James puffed a strand of hair out of his eyes. "It's not like I'm terribly pleased with myself right now. I'm not going to force any of you into slave labor. I just saw his boat there and figured there would be someone tied to the mast. I'll let you all go when we reach port. I promise."_

_Cordial felt her hands go slowly numb. "Um. Would you mind?" She blinked at her hands and then at him._

"_Oh! Sorry. I mean. I'm - " Whatever his apology may have consisted of, Cordial didn't get to hear it. For at that exact moment, the door fell to the ground in a rather dramatic flurry of splinters and nails and in its place a huge shadow stood that seemed to be bellowing "YOUR DOOM HAS COME CAPTAIN JAMES!"_


	4. Chapter 4

Sans had never been so excited to swab the decks. He flew to his bucket and mop and began to furiously scrub at a particularly stubborn bit of muck.

"THE CAP'IN'S DEAD!" came the cry, from the old toothless man that giggled at Sans every meal. "THE CAP'IN'S DEAD AND I KNOW WHO SHOT 'IM! I KNOW WHO SHOT 'IM! I KNOW! I - "

"QUIT YER GUM FLAPPIN' AND SPIT IT OUT OLD MAN!" Prendell the Aged shouted back.

"NOT EVERYONE ON THIS SHIP IS DEAF, YOU KNOW!" Gregory yelled over the two, stepping between them and commandeering Prendell's violin bow in case things got violent. "What's going on? Archibald? Is the captain really dead?"

Archibald beamed and the light glittered off of his gums. "I WAS BRINING HIM SOME MORE RUM - "

"ARCHIBALD!" Gregory groaned and clapped his hands over his ears, poking Sans in the eye with the violin bow. The wind picked up and blew Archibald's few white tufts of hair so that they stuck out in absurd directions. The old man's milky eyes glittered.

"And he was there on the floor. Just lying there - "

Prendell bristled. "WELL OF COURSE HE WAS JUST LYING THERE. HE WAS DEAD, YOU DINGBAT!"

"YOU WOULDN'T KNOW! YOU DIDN'T SEE HIM YOU OLD PRUNE!"

Gregory pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Sans. "Would you help Prendell find his extra violin bow?"

"But why?" Sans cupped his hand around the back of his neck. "You've got hi…" His voice trailed off, however, as Gregory sent the bow flying into the ocean. "C'mon Prendell. Let's go find your bow." As they walked away, Sans saw, out the of corner of his eye, Wendell immerge from the trap door. There were seven burly crew members there to greet him, all unsmiling and all generally unhappy that they had to deal with this so close to suppertime. Wendell's arms were bound behind him and he was marched to the gangplank.

"First Mate Wendell," Archibald addressed in his clearest voice. "You murdered the captain. And mutiny is punishable by death on this ship. So you will die a shameful pirate death." Somber violin music floated down the deck. "You must now walk the plank."

Wendell smirked. "Very well gentlemen. But, before I go, perhaps you would like to know who our beloved Captain Thomas named as his predecessor." He was weaving in and out now and had to lean against the butt of the plank to steady himself. "He said he wanted the command of this lovely little lady to go to San - "

As eloquent as his speech was, it was rudely and unceremoniously cut short by a long, sucker-laden tentacle that appeared behind him and whisked him away into the sea.

Gregory took off his bandanna and looked at his boots. All the other crew members did the same. Prendell continued to squeak a melody. It was only after the crew had eaten dinner that anyone remembered what had just happened.

"Captain Sans."

"I'm sorry, what?"

-

_Cordial's face was slammed rather painfully into the floor as James leapt on top of her and curled himself around her. "Under the bed!" he hissed in her ear and then was gone, leaving her curled on the floor amidst a sea of woodchips. She crab-crawled to the bed and wormed under it, expecting a barrage of sneezes to greet her. There was no dust. _

"_YOU'VE ESCAPED ME FOR THE LAST TIME!" the voice boomed. Cordial was sure that it shook the bed a little. "YOU'VE - "_

"_Alright, alright Barnabus. I can take it from here." At first, Cordial thought that it was James speaking, but this voice was different - heartless, more shrewd. She could see booted feet in the crack between the sheets and the floor and wondered if it was mere irony that the boots were the exact same size. "Why hello there brother," the voice continued, "It's been much too long." Nope. Definitely not irony. _

"_Brother." James' voice was icy with hatred. "What brings you here?" _

"_Oh, just a little matter of business, really." The boots moved toward her and the bed sagged. "I want the other half of Father's map, James."_

"_What makes you think I have it?" _

"_Don't be a fool. We both know that Father gave you half. I found the other part on his dead body."_

"…_what?" James' voice had gotten a lot quieter and, according to her quick peek, his face had gotten a lot paler as well. _

"_Yes, James. Old Daddy's dead," she could practically hear an eyeroll. " And you're just as stubborn as he was. But, I think we can sweeten the pot a bit, yes? Then no one has to get hurt."_

"_I'm not going to sell it to you, Henry."_

"_Oh no! I wouldn't dream of asking you to sell something like that! But, how about a trade of sorts?"_

"_What do you have in mind?"_

"_Your little slave girl's life for that other half of the map."_

"_But, I don't have a…"_

_Cordial realized it too late. She tried to stuff herself into a corner, but two icy hands grabbed her wrists and jerked her from her frighteningly clean hiding place. She found herself face-to-face with James. Only it wasn't James. At least, she really hoped that it wasn't. This James had a dark scar along his left cheek and a sneer that gave her a brief glimpse into her near-approaching death. "Why hello there," he snarled. "What's your name?" Cordial saw the blade before she really had a chance to scream. It flashed through the air and glittered just as it reached Henry's neck – and clattered to the ground._

"_JAMES!" she cried, as he crumpled to the floor. _

"_I can take it from here, Barnabus."_

_And then she blacked out. _

-

Sans decided that his first action as captain should be to free the prisoner. "Free" meaning "Let out of cage." Because he had absolutely no intention of letting her off the ship. He also had absolutely no intention of letting her just sit in a cell all day and have her food brought to her on a tray like some kind of princess. No, this prisoner was going to join the crew or die.

She joined the crew.

-

She wasn't, when she thought about it, getting all that bad of a deal. Cordial had wanted adventure, right? Cordial had hoped for pirates, right? Cordial had gotten an exciting life, right? So why, then, was she scrubbing the bottom of a boot that belonged to a boy her own age? Ah well, she thought, best spit on it.

When the old man had come to let her out of her cell, she was terribly apprehensive. The old man was, after all, toothless and giggled all the way up to the deck. But, when the final trap door was flung open and the sun surged behind her eyes, no one was waiting for her. The old man had disappeared, smacking his gums, and she was left to stand alone on the vast and splintery deck of a strange pirate ship that was captained by a strange, squatty pirate captain who was guiding them around in the middle of strange pirate waters. "Strange." Cordial muttered, before going to explore.

She'd just finished examining the mast when a hand clapped down on her shoulder. She spun around, expecting the creepy Wendell man again, to find that it was her food boy.

She hadn't been able to get a good look at him until now – it had been a little too dark at the bottom of the ship. But now the sun was glinting off of his long, red hair that fell in front of vivid green eyes and a freckled nose. He was her age. Maybe a little older. She lifted her chin. "I see you've summoned up the courage to let me out of my cage, then."

_SMACK. _

Cordial rubbed her stinging cheek and poked him in the chest, noticing in the process how nice and soft his black pirate shirt was. "Listen, _boy_. I don't know where you're from, but in England, boys who smack girls get their own special pin on the sexual predators list. And I am _this close_ to adding you to it."

"Oh?" the boy cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "And where do you plan to get a map?"

"Shut up. I want to see the captain."

A more amiable-looking pirate appeared at her side. "Little lady," he muttered, turning his head so that she could see his real eye. "He is the captain."

"Ah." Cordial rubbed the back of her neck with a hand. "Well this is awkward."

-

_Cordial did not like being in a cage. She especially didn't like being shackled in a cage with no light and, as far as she knew, no one else in the room. Where was she? Where was James? And, more importantly, where was the key?_

"_Hello…" She called out experimentally._

_Silence. _

_She tried pacing about and found that the cage pitched and swung with her. _

"_Really?" She asked no one in particular. "A suspended cage? I thought those were ineffective!"_

_They were, sadly, terribly effective. _

_So Cordial sat. Alone. In the dark. The longer she sat, the more she began to notice a cool stream of air wafting through the bars. She began to shiver. Her teeth chattered. She passed out again. _

"_Cordial?" a voice called from down the carpeted hall. "Cordial? Dinner's ready!" _

"_Hm?" she asked, lifting her head and fluttering her eyes open. _

_She was still in a cage. And she was now hungry…_

-

She'd sort of lost track of the days, but Cordial was pretty sure that she had been on this stupid ship for over a year. She'd polished Captain Sans' boots until she was sure that they would develop holes, swabbed the deck until all of the splinters formed smooth points, and cleaned the grub room so many times that she was sure she could find her way around blindfolded. Sans wasn't quite as sarcastic towards her anymore – this made her job an infinitesimal bit better. He wasn't quite as sarcastic towards anyone, now that she thought about it. He'd changed a considerable amount during his reign as ruler of the vessel. He was no longer an awkward, pale, skinny boy who liked to flip his hair out of his eyes – he was now a strong, tanned, skinny boy whose eyes no one could see. Cordial had often fantasized about cutting his bangs in his sleep, but all her scenarios had ended with the cell and food being shoved through a slot. She had never actually been given a bunk, so she spent her nights in the broom cupboard with a dusty, moth eaten blanket as a pillow. She would've found this rather tragic, had it not been for the bunk room alternative that swam with testosterone.

Cordial plunked her dingy mop into her bucket of suds and slapped it onto the deck. A few flecks of soap flew through the air and landed on a peculiarly shiny boot.

"Why hello there, Cordial," Sans executed an elaborate bow. "And how are you this fine morning?"

"I don't really see the point in this pretended chivalry of yours when I'm being forced to do _slave labor_. So you can just keep your bow, thank you very much." Cordial slammed her mop down as close as she could to the boot and continued to angrily swab the deck.

Sans laughed a little and rolled his eyes. "Oh, excuse me _princess. _I just thought that the _only lady on deck_ would like a little respect. But, since you obviously don't, you'll be needing to shine these boots again after you finish with the deck." With that, he turned on his heel, allowing the salty breeze to dramatically catch his white cotton shirt and ruffle it around a bit. Cordial snorted, and pretended to sneeze when his head snapped around.

-

_It was dark and musty inside wherever she was. Cordial could feel the frigid manacles around her chapped wrists and the burlap around her throat and head. She heard voices, thought she saw light through the fabric..._

"_WHERE'S THE MAP, JAMES?" _

"_I DON'T HAVE IT!" _

"_FATHER GAVE IT TO YOU! WHAT'D YOU DO WITH IT? USE IT FOR KINDLE?"_

"_THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!"_

"_SHUT UP!"_

… _felt herself being knocked to her knees…_

"_Cordial? Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" James was speaking quietly now - Cordial had to strain to hear him through the fabric. "Cordial?" She was finding it rather difficult to form words – she hadn't had water in quite some time. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!" James was roaring now. Cordial could feel Henry bristling. _

"_Calm down, James. Honestly. Outbursts like that are simply unnecessary and I would appreciate it if you will suppress your childish impulses in the future. It'd make things so much easier on all of us."_

"_I'm not here to make things easier on you."_

_There was a long pause. Cordial held her breath until her throat began to sting. _

"_So I've noticed." There was a searing pain in the back of her head and the sound of furious boot scuffling. She guessed that they were holding James in his seat. _

"_STOP!"_

_A low chuckle. "Oh, I didn't hit her hard, James. Do you want to give me the map?" Cordial felt a small gust of air as he drew back his hand. She reached up to cover her head, brushed something cold and metal, took hold and pulled. _

"_I…can't…"_

"_Alright."_

_Cordial collapsed on the floor. _


	5. Chapter 5

"Why hello there," a tall, brunette boy called to her from across the deck, hurrying over while trying to look vastly unexcited.

"Hello." Cordial, to her horror, giggled a bit. "You're new, aren't you?"

"Yes mum. Just got off a boat in Tantalupe and thought I'd do better if I got meself another sea farin' job. Life's better on a pirate ship, really." His brown eyes flashed with excitement.

"I know just what you mean!" She gathered her hair at the nape of her neck and draped it over one shoulder.

"Name's Charter." He stuck out his hand and grinned.

Cordial, who had just dunked her sponge in a bucket of suds, wiped her hands on her dress and grasped his hand, beginning to shake it and gasping when he bent over to kiss her hand instead.

"Ah-_hem_."

Charter's eyes grew wide and wandered over to his peripheral, where Sans stood with his arms crossed. "You're the new first mate, eh?"

"Eh…"

"Then you, of all people, should know that Cordial is to be treated like a cabin _boy. _That's her job, after all, and she's good at it."

"Thank yo - "

"…so it'll probably be best if you just ignore her except for when your shoes need a shine."

"That seems like a waste of such a pretty face," Charter kissed her hand and let it go.

Cordial stood in silence, her hand dangling lamely at her side, wondering if this new-sock-sort of feeling was something to be concerned about.

Sans snorted loudly and dragged Charter away by the arm. "Get back to work, Cordial. You're not on this ship to lollygag."

-

_She was in the cage again. The stupid, idiotic cage again. Only, this time, she wasn't alone. _

"_Hey. You awake?" the voice was gentle, strained, and…_

"_JAMES?" She flung herself towards his voice but, instead of throwing her arms around him, landed on his stomach. _

"_You forgot about the manacles," he laughed bitterly. "Are you alright? How's your head?" So that's what it was. _

"_Why are you in the cage too?" Cordial felt him sigh into her hair. _

"_I gave him the map."_

"_Was it a very important map?"_

"_You could say that, yes."_

"_What about standing up to the jerk? What about fighting and justice of the seas and all that? What about being a pirate?!" She felt his chest tighten. _

"…_he was going to kill you, Cordial."_

_There was a very, very long pause._

"_Ah. We'd better escape, then."_

"_We're in a suspended cage – one of the most effective means of imprisonment to date. There's no way we can get out. If we saw through any of the bars, the entire cage will collapse and we'll die. If, by some chance, you have the keys…"She curled into a ball and reached into her boot, bringing forth the ring of iron keys. James' eyes bulged from his skull. _

"_How – Why – Who – When?"_

"_Oh shut up and unlock these idiotic manacles, James."_

-

Cordial had just finished mending a tear in the main sail when Gregory appeared at her side.

"Bath time, lass."

She nearly dropped her bone needle in her shock. "A bath? Why?"

Gregory's eyebrow arched. "What, do you not need one?"

Cordial, as she grimly noted almost every morning, desperately needed one.

"Lead away."

-

Gregory wound up leading her to the supply room (in which had been placed a rather old bathtub). With much effort, he forced open the swollen wooden door, flooding the dusty room with sunlight and sending a few pirates back on deck with puffy eyes and empty beer tins. Gregory shuffled and looked down at his boots.

"Well, there's soap and towels and clothes and everything. This door locks from the inside, so, y'know, just…don't take too long. Someone may be wantin' some more rum."

Cordial squinted at the black shape conveniently blocking the afternoon sun . "Yessir."

Gregory smacked his forehead. "And don't call me 'Sir.' I'm only five years older than you. Sheesh." The door squeaked shut and she was left alone in the musty-smelling room. Dust particles danced in the light shafts, circling her wrists as she clasped the wooden plank and shoved it into its doorside slot.

-

She perched on top of a tankard of rum, contemplating whether or not putting her sock back on made any sense – seeing as it had so many holes in it that looked like a piece of cheese – when she spotted the sea chest resting at the foot of the tub. She popped the latches and was greeted with a vast, colorful array of fabrics and patterns. She closed her eyes, plunged her hand into the chest, and brought forth the most beautiful rust-red dress she had ever seen (which, of course, she just _had_ to try on). Then she remembered that she was on a pirate ship, sighed, began to search for something more practical…and heard banging on the door.

"Hey! You done yet? Yer needed!"

So she grabbed the first pair of slippers she could find – her boots had fallen apart awhile ago and she didn't really want to continue swabbing the deck in socks – and hopped towards the door in the most ungraceful fashion she could muster.

"CORDIAL! YOU NEED TO GET OUT HERE NO - "

She flung the door open and there was Gregory, mouth open like a codfish in mid-yell.

"I'm right here, you know," she grumbled as she backed towards the sea chest again. "Don't I have time to change into work clothes first?" She gestured towards the box of clothes, hoping that he would go away.

"No. We need to go. You look…uh…"

"Hmmm?"

"You look fine."

Then she found herself being dragged by the wrist down a corridor of wooden doors. Gregory came to a sudden halt and Cordial, who had been preoccupied with keeping her dress from getting caught on any splinters, ran into his back.

"Ouch." She began to rub her nose, and was still rubbing it as Gregory knocked on the captain's door.

"Wait," she tried to grab his arm without success, "I'm not really allowed in there…" But the door had already been flung open.

"My, how lovely you look this evening," Charter cooed, executing a low bow and ushering her into the room.

"Uh…"

The room's walls, ceiling and floor were wooden, of course, but the room didn't have the same wooden-box feeling as the rest of the ship. Most of the floor was covered by an intricately designed rug that smelled of spices and from the ceiling hung two great bamboo fans. Against the furthest wall was the bed – a vast, canopy bed that looked infinitely more comfortable than her broom closet. The wall closest to her was lined with bookshelves and every bare space on the other two walls was filled with hundreds of black and white pictures. There was a wash basin over to one side, a few comfy chairs sprinkled about, and a sea chest, but what caught her attention more than anything was the long dining table in the middle of the floor filled with heaping plates of steaming food.

"What's going on?" she asked, backing slowly out the door. "I should get back to work -"

"Ah ah ah," Charter chided, grabbing her wrist and spinning her into the room. "It's about time that the only lady aboard started being treated like one. Isn't that right, Captain Sans?"

She heard a low mumble and thought she could make out, in the glow of the candles, his figure slumped in a chair at the head of the table. Charter took her arm and led her to the table – she thought it best that she take it, since she was obviously intoxicated. He grasped the back of a mahogany wingback chair and pulled it out, staring expectantly at her. She sat. "So…um…I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" she began experimentally. Sans let out a snort. Charter cleared his throat loudly and pulled out the chair across from her.

"No! You've been a perfect angel from what I can tell. I just think that a beautiful lady should be treated like one. And you are beautiful."

"Oh…um…thank you…" Cordial's brain shorted out for a moment, a side-effect that frightened her beyond all possible reason. Who _was _this boy anyway that he could just sweep in here and confuse her so?

"You're blushing," Charter observed over the rim of his wine cup. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh! No!" She hated herself for sounding so urgent. "I'm just not very used to being complimented. That's all." Charter shot the captain a sideways grin. "Why did you not tell her _every day_ how beautiful she is? Just look at her!" Cordial turned her head slightly and met a very hard stare from Sans. She looked about herself awkwardly and decided that he must be staring at a picture behind her. But, after she had finished her soup and looked up, he was still staring at the picture in the exact same manner.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"…I'm sorry, what?"

Charter laughed a little, causing his many teeth to gleam in the candlelight. "Where you came from? Do you have a boyfriend?" He stared at her through the candelabra. All this staring was beginning to make Cordial feel rather like a fishbowl.

"No. Of course not. You don't really get many chances to meet boys in an all-girls' orphanage."

"Oh," Charter's voice was a shade quieter. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

But the apology came too late because Cordial was already babbling and, to her horror, didn't seem to be able to stop. "It's really alright. I wouldn't know what to do with a boyfriend if I had one. Not that I'd _do_ anything or anything like that – I'm not that kind of girl. At least, I don't think I am. I don't want to be. But some of the girls in the orphanage would sneak out at night and go to the town square and see their boyfriends. I went once and didn't met a single boy _and_ got caught and had to clean all the floors in the building for an entire month…" She froze, her fork and knife poised in the air, to hear quiet laughing.

"I apologize," Charter cooed, trying to swallow his smile. "You're just so full of energy. It's rather refreshing actually."

"Is it now?" Cordial asked, attempting to bat her eyelids. Sans snorted into his drink.

"Yes. It is."

"Mm."

-

Cordial expected this weird daydream to end at any moment, but it was a persistent little snot and before she knew it, she was done with dinner and out on the deck admiring the blanket of stars. "Do you know how to waltz?" Charter asked suddenly and, of course she didn't, so away they went, slowly and clumsily. She'd just mastered the steps, when squeaky violin music drafted from the starboard side. Laughing, Charter scooped her up and onto his feet. They danced this way for quite some time – until she was quite good at the waltz – when he placed her feet back on the deck and twirled her about.

"You're very good," he said as the music subsided in wet, old man snores.

"Why thank you." Cordial executed what she hoped was a graceful bow. "I owe it all to you." Charter lifted his chin and laughed a bit, tugging on her shoulders to make her stand up.

"Girls," he chided, "Do not bow. They curtsey. Like so." And he proceeded to dip into an elegant curtsey, complete with hand flourish. Cordial, trying very hard not to be rude, giggled loudly behind her hands. Charter stood up, mock offense written on his face. "What? Am I not allowed to curtsey? Let me see you try." So Cordial tucked one ankle behind the other – a feat which was quite remarkable, given the volume of tulle that surrounded her legs – and sank into what she hoped was a delicate curtsey.

"Like so?" she asked, trying to see how her ankles were holding up while attempting to stand. Charter cupped a hand under her chin and tilted her head so that she looked him in the eyes.

"That's perfect."

"_Ah-hem."_

Cordial turned and, seeing something emerging from the shadows, jumped rather violently into Charter.

"Captain," Charter said.

"Charter," Sans said rather icily. "Isn't it time you were getting some rest? If you are to aid in the command of this ship, you must have rest."

"Ah. So you are right, Captain." Charter turned and, grasping Cordial's hand, kissed it. "Goodnight, Cordial. I shall see you again in the morning."

"Goodnight," she giggled, curtsying. Charter disappeared down through the trapdoor and Captain Sans strode over to the ship's wheel, took hold, and began to thoughtfully steer the ship, leaving Cordial to feel rather awkward. The only thing left to do, she decided, was to clean. "Captain? May I have your boots?"

"Hm?" he asked, without so much as an inclination of the head in her direction.

"Your boots. I never got to shine them today."

"Ah." There was a long, awkward pause. "You can do that in the morning, if you want."

"Oh. Thank you." So Cordial, not having anything else to clean, went into her broom closet (which was set into the wall of the grub room, a few paces south of the ship's wheel), and puddled her blanket underneath her head. She spent quite some time trying to stuff all of the tulle into the little room so that she could close the door, but it just couldn't be done and she decided that it would be easier to leave the door open. "Besides," she thought, "The fresh air will do me good. And I won't get cold with all this tulle…" The black waves of the sea began to slap rhythmically against the ship's hull and the wheel creaked as the captain steered and Cordial began to get rather warm and fuzzy, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and inhaled a dust ball from the folds of her blanket. She began to cough somewhat uncontrollably and, though she tried to be quiet about it, heard boots thumping across the deck towards her.

"…are you alright?" Expecting it to be Charter, she opened her eyes and, when she saw that it was Sans who had entered her broom closet and was now leaning over her, began to cough harder. She felt a hand slip behind her back and felt herself sitting up, though she never remembered thinking that she should do such a thing. After a couple of minutes, she stopped coughing and found that she could open her eyes again.

"Why are you in the broom closet?" the Captain asked, slightly bemused.

"I, um, sleep in here."

"You what?!"

"Well, I can't very well sleep in the bunker room, now can I?"

Captain Sans chuckled a bit. "No, no I suppose you can't." Cordial started to lay back down, but his hand was still keeping her up. "But you can't very well go on sleeping here, now, can you?" She blinked at him for a bit, rather confused as to how this pig of a teenage boy had received such a higher education in the past year that he now felt compelled to use phrases like "Can't very well." "Why don't," he continued, "You take my room? Only for tonight – until we can figure out where else you can sleep. I'm not going to sleep tonight anyway." He chuckled at that, as though it were a private joke, though Cordial didn't understand what was humorous about a lack of sleep.

"Alright," she agreed warily, "But only if it's just for tonight."

"But of course."

-

_Cordial swung the substantial metal door open, felt it fling into empty space and pull the cage along with it, and spent the next five minutes rearranging her face after having it slammed into the bars. "C'mon," she whispered over her shoulder, "You can - " Sadly, no one had felt it necessary to alert Cordial that she was suspended twenty feet over a large pool of water, or to explain to her the necessity for such a precaution, so she plunged through the opening without much of a second thought. The frigid water pierced her skin immediately and, as it is rather unpleasant to have water course up one's clothes unexpectedly, she yelped loudly. There was a loud splash, followed by a fierce grip on her wrist that yanked her below the surface. "ARGL!" she protested as water surged up her nose, but fell silent at the sparkling light that penetrated the water. Down she was pulled, towards a dark abyss…_


	6. Chapter 6

She'd fallen asleep while he was talking to her. Sans was, at first, slightly annoyed by this but, after she slumped forward so that her head thumped against the wall of the closet, he was merely amused. He scooped her up with a considerable amount of ease and spent the next five minutes trying to figure out how to get her out of the tiny room with all that tulle attached to her dress. He eventually figured it out – he _was_ the captain of a pirate ship, he should be able to figure these things out – and dropped through the door to his room's floor. He placed her on his bed just as the tiny voice began to ask him why he was being so nice. "She's tired," he whispered to no one in particular. "And she'll get the dress all dirty if she sleeps in that closet with it on." The voice, however, was terribly persistent with its theory. "Alright!" he whisper-cried. "I have a conscience. Now leave me alone!"

"Hm?" Cordial mumbled, turning over and reaching blindly for a pillow. He handed her one – she was going to slobber _all over_ his favorite pillow, he just knew it – and she curled around it like a bear cub. She looked, he thought, much frailer than she had seemed earlier. "Probably the darkness," he thought, stretched, slapped himself in the face a few times to stay awake, and headed above deck to do some steering.

-

Cordial had never slept so well in all her life. In fact, she slept so well that the sun was already halfway across the sky by the time she was awake enough to realize that she was in the captain's room. _The captain's room. _This, she decided as she stumbled into a wall and knocked a picture off, was a very bad thing.

-

If Sans hadn't been able to shut his conscience up, Cordial did a splendid job of obliterating it altogether.

"WHO," she bellowed, storming onto the deck with entirely unnecessary bravo, "DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? DO YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN JUST - "

"Ah, good morning, beautiful creature," Charter cooed, appearing at her side with unnerving stealth. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine, thank you," she snapped, striding towards the ship's wheel with enough gust to deliver a fairly significant blow to the back of the captain's shoulder. "JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE THE CAPTAIN - "

"Well, good morning to you too," he grinned, removing his hat and brushing the deck with its feather in an elaborate bow. "_…Princess._"

In hindsight, Cordial realized that attacking a pirate captain whilst on his ship is never the best plan, but she wasn't quite awake and she also hadn't had breakfast, so that's exactly what she did.

"YOU JERK! YOU VINDICTI - "

Without so much as a twitch, Sans captured both her flailing arms in one hand and used them to walk her to the front of the wheel.

"Will you shut up? Some of us are trying to do a _meager servant's_ day of work…"

"SHUP UP? YOU WANT ME TO SHUT UP? AFTER I WAKE UP IN _YOUR_ BED WHEN I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER LEAVING MY CLOSET? I THINK YOUR SHUTTING UP PRIVILEDGES HAVE BEEN REVOKED, GOOD SIR."

Sans could practically feel Charter's eyes bulging. "You did _what?_" he gasped, appearing at the wheel just as the boy finished counting to ten.

"She was sleeping in the broom closet," he grumbled out of the side of his mouth (hoping it was low enough for the rest of the crew to miss it), "And she started coughing. And, I mean, _really_, she's got that nice dress on and everything – she was going to get it all dirty."

"Aw," Gregory cooed from somewhere above them, "Isn't that sweet? He didn't want the dress to get dirty."

"When are you changing, by the way?" Sans smirked at the struggling girl. She glared through the hair now streaming in front of her face – Sans took a moment to appreciate that none of them had had haircuts in at least a year – and tilted her head towards the much confused Charter.

"You're not going to let him order a girl around like that, are you, sweetie?" she giggled, purring as much as possible on the r's.

Prendell the Aged appeared behind the girl, waving his bow triumphantly and giggling. "SWEETIE? DIDYA HEAR THAT, BOYS? LOOKS LIKE THE FIRST MATE'S GOT HIMSELF A GIRLIE!" Charter, much empowered by the old man's cackles, caught the ship's wheel just as Sans was making a decisive turn.

"You really _should_ mind your manners better," Charter chided as his fist sailed into the captain's view.

_You really shouldn't hit him back, _the tiny voice in Sans' head warned. "Shut up! You're absolutely no help!" he cried to no one in particular as he let go of both the wheel and the fuming girl to land a painful blow to his crew member's face. The boy reeled a bit, tried to steady himself, and promptly fell over the side of the ship. Sans worried that his eyes might roll out of his skull, took his sweet time placing his sword, dagger, cutlass, and various other piratey things on deck, and dove overboard to fetch his pathetic excuse for a first mate.

"Y'know," he contemplated as he wrung out his shirt, "You really are a pathetic excuse for a first mate."

-

_Cordial felt herself slipping into darkness. The water no longer seemed cold or wet; it surrounded her limbs and tugged gently downward, down, down...Just when she felt she would never breathe again, her feet brushed solid ground, grass, in fact, as she collapsed against a gasping body. "James?" she coughed hopefully, trying to stop the oncoming swoon. _

"_I'm right here," he assured, scooping her off the ground. "Are you alright?" _

"_Where are we?" she ambiguously answered (for, she decided, it was best to simply not answer at all when the answer to a question like that was "No")._

"_I, um…I have no idea. I pulled you under when I heard the guards coming and I knew they'd shine a light on the water eventually, so I figured the best plan was to swim as far underwater as possible. And, here we are."_

"…_we're underwater?"_

"_It would seem that way." He pointed to the sky, which, until then had seemed like any normal, if not abnormally blue, sky, just as it began to quiver and fold on itself, merging the clouds into larger puffs and then breaking them into smaller pieces that skittered away. _

"_Ugh," Cordial groaned, lying back on his arm, "They drugged us."_

-

Cordial hadn't noticed that she had grown any until she donned her old orphanage clothes; the skirt was above her knees now and the top would barely button. _Ugh_, she thought, _I'm getting fat._

She also hadn't noticed that the crew was treating her any differently until she plunked her bowl of oatmeal on the wooden dining table.

"Sugar?" a young boy asked, brandishing a fuzzy lump from his pocket.

"Um…wow…no thanks."

A high-pitched sneeze rang through the room, settling – Cordial was almost sure of it – in her bowl of oatmeal. Hungry as she was, she ate it anyway. The long wooden room began to echo with a symphony of sneezes, one after another, until its entirety was chortling with laughter.

"I never knew," the young boy snorted, "That the captain sneezed like a woman. What a puss."

"That's the captain?" Cordial felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as she remembered the morning's ventures. She got up, felt the ship pitch, and flew into the back of the burley mechanic seated in the neighboring table. "Sorry!" she cried over the din of hungry men, beginning to pick her way through the tables and benches. When at last she made it to the captain's table, she found that Charter was pointedly absent, leaving the redhead to sneeze to himself in the corner of the room.

"Are you alright?" she asked, shielding her face with her empty bowl as another onslaught of sneezes began.

"Of course I'm fine," the boy scoffed, not bothering to even look up, "I'm just sneezing. Haven't you ever heard of a sneeze before? They're not imported, you know."

"You really should go to bed," Cordial piped from over her bowl. "You're sick."

"I am not – ACHOO."

"Bed. Now."

"Why are you even – AAAAAACHOO."

"Oh, would you please already? I can't eat with your spit flying everywhere," the sugar-lump boy called from across the room.

"I guess…the crew knows what to do."

"Mm-hm."

-

_The sky began to pitch more violently, to scream at her, in purple, then mossy green, then sickly yellow, like a bruise that would never quite heal. "James?" Cordial cried over the rising roar, covering her ears and pressing herself against his chest. "What's going on?!" But he wasn't there to hold her; it was just the sky, swaddling her like a baby, then letting her go, then taking her up again like an indecisive mother bear. "JAMES?!" she screamed against the liquid, but it was no use – her lungs were full of it now and she only choked on the word. Her skin began to chill, she felt a hard surface below her, then…_

"_WOULD YOU WAKE UP ALREADY?" bellowed a large shadow, followed promptly by another dose of cold water. _

"_WHAT?" the girl screeched, sitting up to a head full of stars._

"_Finally. You're wanted in the captain's office."_

_Her manacles wrenched her into a standing position, then forward and out of her prison, so that when she turned back, all she saw was an iron cage on a freshly mopped floor. _

-

Cordial, though she hated to admit it, was horrid at comforting people.

"There, there," she offered awkwardly, slapping a hot towel on the captain's forehead.

"Ack!" he cried, pulling the limp thing off his face with two fingers. "I'm fine. Really. Just a-a-ACHO little cold. Probably from that little escapade this morning." He squinted at her through his bangs, though she thought she saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards for a brief moment.

"I'm…ah, sorry about that. Just a little morning confusion, you know." She tried being a tad more gentle, taking care to brush the hair from his face before placing the towel across his forehead. "Why _was_ I in your room, anyway? I'm sort of hoping Charter didn't put me there." Cordial snorted a little at her own joke, but the boy just swallowed and looked up at the ceiling.

"Hey, you were wearing a fancy dress in a broom closet…what was I supposed to do? Do you even know how rare a find dresses are on the ships that we commandeer? The fact that you found one that looked so great on you is just freakish."

Stupid neck rash – Cordial'd been experiencing it more often, lately, and was now quite certain the burning sensation creeping up her neck was some sort of irritation brought on by the filth she'd been sleeping in. "You, ah, thought I - "

"CAPTAIN!" a rather squat, spherical man cried through the doorway he had just opened. "WE'VE GOT US A PROBLEM!"

-

This was _his_ moment, nay, his _destiny _to lead this ship to victory. He would take the great British cargo ship and all its bounty for his men, for the _seas_, so that all would know that Captain Charter was here to stay, that _Captain Charter_ –

"Oh, sorry mate," Gregory called as a rope swung from the sails and smacked the boy in the back of the head.

Brown eyes flashing, the brilliant captain began to devise a punishment suitable for the careless crew member –

"THEY SEE US, CHARTER! THEY'RE GETTIN' READY TE FIRE, I THINK," came the call from the crow's nest.

Quickly calculating the best plan of action, the nimble captain, the _agile _captain, leapt from the deck to the bowsprit and called –

"READY THE CANNONS, MEN. WE'RE GONNA - "

The young, _proficient _captain leapt just as the tentacle swung for his leg, lingered in the air just long enough for the tentacle to flick back again, and landed safely as…a large sucker cupped tentacle swung for his face. The last attack was uncalled for and entirely unfair, _unsportsmanlike_, really, and the captain simply wouldn't have any of it. He was beginning to tell the sea creature exactly what he thought of this sort of behavior just as the sucker cup made contact with his face, leaving off all further lectures for another time. In no time at all the bowsprit was empty again, leaving the men to mourn the loss of their once great, _self-sacrificial _captain, the one who'd be remembered in the stars forever.

-

"…Did that really just happen?" Sans groaned in disbelief, sagging against the mast just as the British ship decided to fire the first cannon. "WELL, MEN?" cried the red-haired captain, "WHAT'LL IT BE? DO WE FIGHT LIKE MEN? OR DO WE FIGHT LIKE PIRATES?!" The answer, of course, was a menagerie of animal sounds, followed swiftly by the sound of splintering British wood. The cannons were a cute touch, Sans thought, what with the offensive ship coming at them from the poop deck and all. The pirates sailed across the grappling lines, hammered across what was left of the deck, and proceeded to tie every single white-wigged civilian to the mast of their own ship.

"CAP'IN!" a graying blonde pirate (Nicodemis, actually) bellowed from the main deck. "THIS HERE'S A MERCHANT SHIP!"

This announcement was met with many cheers and whistles from the pirates, for a merchant ship meant all sorts of plunderable goodies – gold, jewels, or even Puerto Rican rum if they were especially lucky.

"TAKE WHAT YOU CAN AND GET BACK ON THE SHIP!" Sans called, sneezing on the fat old man he was tying up. "Sorry."

-

"What's going on?!" Cordial cried, crossing to the tiny man against the door. "What'd you tell him, Nigel?"

Nigel crossed his arms stubbornly and pressed his bottom firmly against the door. "Look, miss. There ain't nothing a little girlie like you needs to be seein' out there. The men 'r just havin' a little fun, s'all, and you don't need to be interferin' none. Yer boyfriend'll be back, safe and sound, don't you be worryin.'"

"I DO NOT," Cordial cried, seizing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall, causing two more pictures to crash to the ground, "HAVE A BOYFRIEND." She flung open the door, marched onto the sunlight, and bumped into the belly of a very excited graying blonde.

"What's going on?" she demanded, eyeing the lumpy bag he was hugging.

Nicodemis' blue eyes slanted dully and he bowed his head so that her face was blocked from the sun. "I'm sorry, miss. Yer boyfriend didn't make it."

The somber severity with which he had delivered his line allowed Cordial to ignore the mention of her non-existent boyfriend, but to sink instead against the outer wall of the captain's room, a room that would soon be Charter's.

"…I told him I wasn't any good with colds."

-

_Barnabus wrench the metal wheel around and pushed open the thudding, iron door. Expecting to be shoved to the ground dramatically, Cordial shut her eyes and clenched her teeth, making what was possibly her most attractive face. _

"_Well, hello to you too," came the hollow voice. It sounded almost like…no…it couldn't be…_

"_JAMES?!" She flew across the room, stopping short when her face hit an impressive set of abs. "I'd hug you, but, y'know…" She presented her manacled wrists, which had an embarrassing amount of tooth marks on them from where she had tried to chew her way free. _

"_Here," he laughed, jingling a key ring in front of her, "You're good to go." _

_Her wrists now free, Cordial hug-tackled the young boy with as much force as she could muster. "Are you ok? How did you – Did he – You - " She drew back, holding him by the shoulders for appraisal, only to gasp in horror. For there, running down the left side of his face, was a long, dark scar. _


End file.
